Spartan Run

CHAPTER TWO

Blade frantically spun the steering wheel to the left and tramped on the brake pedal. The SEAL slewed violently, straight at the woman, who had halted in her tracks and was gaping at the vehicle in stark astonishment, and for a moment he thought the transport would plow right over her.

Then the rear end swung back again, and the SEAL shot past her, missing her body by inches. The huge tires squealed in protest as the green van lurched to a stop.

All three Warriors were whipped forward; all reacted instantly. Blade merely gripped the steering wheel harder. Rikki pressed his hands to the dash. And Teucer caught himself by bracing his arms against the front seats.

“Warn a guy, why don’t you?” the bowman quipped.

Blade threw the gearshift into Park, shoved the door wide, and leaped out. He ran around the rear of the transport and found the woman still rooted in place, gawking. Her luxuriant shoulder length hair was black, her eyes brown. A blue shirt and brown pants, both of which were faded and worn, clung to her shapely body. “Hello,” he said, and held his hands out to indicate his peaceful intentions. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

Rikki and Teucer joined the giant.

“Why were you running?” Blade asked. “Are you in danger?”

The question snapped the woman out of her daze. She looked past them, back the way she had come from, and the terrified aspect returned.

“Yes,” she stated.

“From what?”

“From that!” she cried, and pointed.

Blade spun, his hands dropping to his Bowies, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not expecting the monstrosity that was charging toward them, a monstrosity that vented a tremendous roar.

“Dear Spirit!” Teucer breathed.

The creature was a mutation. Six and a half feet in height, with a thick body and stout limbs, the thing vaguely resembled a bear in its general shape, but there the comparison ended. Where bears spent most of their time on all fours and only rose on their hind legs for brief intervals, the onrushing beast ran on two legs just like a human, although with a shuffling, awkward gait. Instead of hair it had reddish, lumpy skin. Its elongated mouth contained wicked, tapered teeth. A pair of triangular ears crowned a rounded head. Most horrible of all were the eyes. They were oversized, as big as apples, and had tiny red pupils.

“Run!” the woman screamed.

The Warriors had no intention of doing so.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi moved to meet the deviate, gliding gracefully, his long black scabbard wedged under his belt and slanted across his left hip. He assumed a back stance, both hands on the hilt of the sword he could wield with unparalleled precision, and waited for the creature to reach him.

Blade drew his Bowies and went to aid his friend, wishing he had taken the time to retrieve his Commando submachine gun from the rear storage section of the SEAL. The creature sported five inch claws on each front paw, which combined with its size and ferocity made it a formidable adversary. The Commando could slay the deviate in seconds, whereas with the Bowies it would be much more difficult. He saw Rikki’s arm move, saw the martial artist’s gleaming katana streak from the scabbard, and with the mutation only 20 feet away he braced for the onslaught. Only the monstrosity never reached them.

A swishing sound arose behind them, and a long green shaft sped into the creature’s chest with a pronounced thud. The thing roared again and paused to swipe at the object protruding from its flesh. Another swish sounded, and yet another, the second an instant after the first, and two arrows lanced into the mutation’s eyes, one in each red pupil. For a moment the creature went rigid, snarling hideously, and then it toppled onto its left side, convulsed for a bit, and expired.

Blade and Rikki exchanged glances.

“Apparently we weren’t needed,” said the man in black.

“Don’t you just hate show-offs?” Blade asked.

Teucer walked past them, another arrow already notched, and warily approached the beast. He nudged its head several times, and satisfied the thing was dead, he lowered his bow.

The woman ran over to them, staring at the mutation in disbelief. “You saved my life! That thing chased me for half a mile!”

“Glad we could assist you,” Blade mentioned, sliding the Bowies into their sheaths.

“I meant him,” the woman stated, indicating the bowman. She stared at him with frank, adoring eyes.

“It was nothing,” Teucer said, walking up to her.

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “You were magnificent.”

The bowman grinned and slid the arrow into the quiver he had slung over his back while exiting the transport.

“I guess I was, wasn’t I?”

“Oh, brother,” Rikki mumbled, replacing the katana in a smooth, practiced motion.

“Who are you men?” the woman inquired, and looked at the SEAL. “And what is that vehicle of yours? I’ve never seen one like it.”

“Our transport is unique,” Blade disclosed. “As for our names, I’m Blade. This is Rikki,” he said, and nodded at the man in black. “And the man who lucked out and hit the mutation named himself Teucer.”

She stared at the bowman. “You named yourself?”

“Sure did, my dear. After a bowman in The Iliad. It’s common practice at the place we’re from to have a special Naming Ceremony on our sixteenth birthday. We’re encouraged to select any name we want, from any source, as our very own.”

“I never heard of such a thing.”

“What’s your name?” Blade questioned.

“Erica. Erica Johnson.”

“Do you live around here?”

“Less than a mile away, on the outskirts of Dorchester. My dad has a farm.” She paused. “I was out for a walk.”

“Would you take us there?” Blade queried.

“No,” Erica said, shaking her head.

“We’ll give you a lift,” Blade offered. “I promise no harm will come to you.”

“It’s not that. You’re strangers. You must leave, and leave quickly.”

“Why?”

“Just go, please,” Erica advised, and began to head to the south.

“Wait,” Blade said. “Explain the reason we should leave.”

“I told you. You’re strangers.”

“So?”

The woman was almost abreast of the dead deviate. She looked back.

“Please go. I feel I owe you for saving me, and I’m trying to return the favor.”

“Hold on, fair maiden,” Teucer stated, and beckoned for her to return.

“We need information and you’re the only one who can provide it.”

Erica stopped, “All right. But be quick about this. If they find you, you’ll be taken into custody.”

“If who finds us?” Teucer asked.

“The Spartans, of course.”

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi took a step toward her. “Then we’re near Sparta?”

“You’re close. You have to go another ten miles on this highway, then take a gravel road to the east about four miles. But you don’t want to go there.”

“Yes, we do,” Rikki informed her. “We’ve traveled a long distance to find the Spartans.”

“Then you’re crazy. They aren’t very fond of strangers. If you’re lucky, they’ll escort you far, far away and tell you to never come back. If not, you could wind up in chains,” Erica warned. “Please leave. Now.”

“Are you a Spartan?” Blade inquired.

“I wish. No, I’m a Helot.”

“What’s a Helot?” asked Teucer.

“One of the farming class that raises all the food for Sparta. Each Helot is allotted fifty acres on which to grow the required quota. Any extra the Helot gets to keep.”

“How many Helots are there?” Blade wanted to know.

“I’m not sure. Over two thousand, I think. Maybe three thousand.”

“And how many Spartans?”

“There you’ve got me. Last I heard, about nine hundred. Probably more by now.”

“Only nine hundred?” Rikki said.

“What did you expect?” Erica answered, and gestured at the van.

“Please, for the last time, get out of here. A patrol could show up at any minute.”

“We can’t leave,” Blade declared. “We’re emissaries from the Freedom Federation, and we came to extend an invitation to the Spartan people and their leader.”

“Leaders, you mean. The Spartans are ruled by two kings.”

“Then we must present our message to them.”

The woman shook her head. “You’re just asking for trouble.”

“It won’t be the first time,” Blade stated. “And since we’re going no matter what, and we’re heading the same direction you are, why not ride with us? You’ll get home that much faster.” He pointed at the mutation.

“What if that thing has a mate? You wouldn’t be safe by yourself.”

Her brow furrowed in contemplation, Erica gazed at the carcass, then nodded. “All right. I’ll let you take me to the farm. I can take the time to talk you out of visiting Sparta.”

Teucer promptly stepped to the SEAL and held the door open. “After you, lovely one.” He gave a little bow. “Your chariot awaits.”

The Helot climbed inside, bestowing an affectionate smile on the bowman.

“Here we go again,” Rikki said as he walked on Blade’s heels toward the van.

“What do you mean?” the head Warrior responded.

“Do you realize how many of us have married women from outside the Home? Hickok married Sherry, and she’s from Canada. Geronimo wed Cynthia, who hails from the Cavalry. Sundance popped the question to Bertha, who hails from the Twin Cities. And I took Lexine in eternal union. She’s from St. Louis.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Teucer could be next, which would be highly appropriate.”

“How so?”

“Doesn’t Cupid use a bow?”

Blade laughed all the way around the front of the transport. He clambered into the driver’s seat, listening to the muted whine of the engine, and waited for Rikki to get in before resuming their interrupted journey, carefully bypassing the dead deviate.

“Wow!” Erica said excitedly. “I’ve never ridden in anything like this!”

“Does your family own a vehicle?” Blade probed.

“Heavens, no. None of the Helots do. Many years ago the Spartans allowed our ancestors to use tractors, but eventually the tractors wore out.

So now we just use horses and oxen.”

“Do the Spartans possess vehicles?”

“A few. They have a few jeeps that they only use on special occasions. I was told it’s hard for them to obtain fuel. They receive a little now and then in trade with the Scarlet Clique.”

Blade had heard of the Clique, a sophisticated network of smugglers and thieves who supplied anything a client wanted provided the price was met. He’d tried to learn more about them, where their headquarters were located and the identity of the party or parties running the operation, but so far he’d not uncovered the information. All he’d managed to discover was the fact that the Scarlet Cliques stole a substantial quantity of merchandise and military items from the Free State of California and the Civilized Zone, both allies of the Family. “What can you tell the about the history of Sparta?” he asked.

“Not a great deal. My grandfather claimed Sparta was formed about the time of the war. A bunch of college professors from back East came to this area to hide, to get away from the mobs and the looters. They were the ones who wrote the Spartan constitution and set up the system of government. They also forced some people to become Helots,” Erica said, stressing the last word bitterly.

“I take it you don’t like being a Helot?”

“What was your first clue?”

“Why not?”

“Would you like to be a second-rate citizen? Helots are good enough to grow food to feed the Spartans, but they’re not considered good enough to have the right to vote or take control of their own lives. The Spartans are the lords and masters, and any Helot who doesn’t toe the line winds up sentenced to work in the quarry for life.”

“What quarry?”

“Where the Spartans mine the granite and marble for their buildings. No one sent there ever comes out alive.”

Blade regarded her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Do all of the Helots feel the same way you do about the Spartans?”

“Some do. Some don’t.”

“Why do the Helots tolerate being inferior citizens? There are close to three thousand of them, you said, and only nine hundred Spartans. Why don’t the Helots demand better treatment or rise in revolt?”

Erica snickered. “You don’t know the Spartans very well, do you?”

“I’ve never met them,” Blade confessed.

“Well, once you do you’ll understand. The Spartans live for war. They’re the best fighters on the planet. If the Helots ever rise in revolt, the Spartans will crush them just like they crush their enemies, like they crushed the early insurrections.”

“There have been rebellions?” Blade inquired in surprise, his gaze on the mirror again, neglecting to watch the highway.

At that moment Teucer pointed at something up ahead and yelled, “Look out!”